How to love a dying star - April 2 "torn"

Dear Diary,

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know if writing this will help, but my head is so full of thunder and sirens and screaming silence that I need somewhere to put the noise. Somewhere quiet.

It's 11:52 PM, and the city outside my window refuses to sleep. The lights flash in my periphery, distant car horns blare like they're mad at the world, and yet none of it touches me. My room feels like a sealed aquarium — I'm inside, watching everyone else breathe.

I should start at the beginning, shouldn't I?

Chae-Sun told me to take a break today. She always knows when I'm spiraling. I was hunched over my laptop, eyes burning from hours of staring at an essay I couldn't finish, hands trembling from too much coffee and not enough hope.

"Mi-Chan," she said, her voice both exasperated and loving — her specialty, "you need to get out of here before you become a ghost in sweatpants."

I almost snapped at her. I wanted to say, You don't get it. This essay is everything. But I saw the worry in her eyes. The kind of worry that doesn't come from inconvenience, but from watching someone you love disappear into themselves.

So, I caved. I texted Se-Jin. "Can we meet up?" That's all I wrote. Not a question mark. Not a heart. Just those four words. My thumb hovered before I hit send like I was waiting for permission from a higher power. He responded five minutes later with:"Okay."

No emoji. No "miss you." No spark. Just... okay.

That should've been my first clue, Diary. But I told myself he was just busy. Maybe he had a long day. Maybe we were both just off.

So, I went. I put on makeup for the first time in a week, wore the white blouse he said made my eyes look "peaceful." I even spritzed on that vanilla body mist he once joked made me smell like a bakery — like he liked that.

The air was cold tonight. The kind of cold that sits in your chest, not just your skin. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and walked toward the theater where we always met. It used to be our place. Now it just looked like a building.

Then I saw them.

He was there. So was she.

A girl I'd never seen before, hanging off his arm like she belonged there. Her laugh was too loud, too familiar with him. He didn't pull away. He didn't even flinch. He looked… comfortable.

Time didn't slow down like they say it does in movies. It sped up. My ears rang. My vision tunneled. I couldn't feel my fingers.

I approached him like I was walking through water. My voice came out before I could stop it:"Hey. What are you doing?"

He dropped her hand like it had turned to fire. His eyes met mine — wide, then blank.

"Nothing," he said.

Liar.

The girl smirked. That awful, smug kind of smirk that says, You're too late, sweetheart.

"I was going to introduce you," he said after a pause. "She's my cousin."

My cousin.My cousin?

She looked nothing like him. And when I offered her my hand, she didn't take it. Just stared at it like it was something gross. The way she looked at me — she knew. She knew what she was doing.

And then, Diary, I did something I'm not proud of.

I stayed.

I let him take me inside the theater. I sat next to him while my blood screamed. I watched the screen but saw nothing. My mind was rewinding, dissecting his expression, the way he kept checking his phone, the way he didn't touch me once during the whole movie.

Afterward, we walked outside. The cold slapped my cheeks, but I didn't feel it. I just… couldn't stop staring at him.

So I said it."You know I'm not dumb. I saw how close you two were."

He looked at me like I'd just accused him of murder. Then he laughed."You're always so obsessed with school, Mi-Chan. I'm tired of waiting. You think your essay matters more than me?"

That broke me.

He said it like I was a burden. Like my dreams were a problem he had to deal with.

I slapped him.

I didn't think. I just did it. And the sound of it — it still echoes in my ears. His face froze, then twisted. He didn't yell. He didn't argue. He just said:"You can get your things tomorrow. I'm keeping the apartment. You gave it to me, remember?"

And then he walked away.

That was it.

Three years. Gone in a single sentence.

Now I'm back home. The makeup's gone. The blouse is on the floor. I keep replaying it, wondering what I did wrong, what I should've said, what I could've said to make him stay.

But maybe… maybe he never planned to.

I think what hurts most is that I begged him. After the slap, after the words, I said, "Please. I don't care if you cheat. I still need you."

I hate that I said that.

Where is my dignity, Diary?

Where is my strength?

He doesn't get to define me. He doesn't get to be the ending to my story. And yet... here I am, writing about him.

12:23 AM The rain's started. Of course it has. The universe has a sense of dramatic timing.

I keep wondering what the point of tonight was. Why fate dragged me there just to break me all over again.

But something strange happened after I left him.

A car followed me. I panicked at first. Told the driver to roll down the window. And when it did — it wasn't Se-Jin.

It was someone else.

Him.

The guy from earlier.

I still don't know his name. I only remember eyes like dusk and a voice like polished stone.

He asked, "Need a ride?"

I said, "Sure." Because at that moment, I couldn't be alone with my thoughts.

The ride was quiet. I sat in the back. He offered me his jacket. It smelled like cedar and orange peel. I wanted to cry just from the kindness.

He asked if I was okay.

I lied. Of course I did. What was I supposed to say? Hi, I just got dumped by the man I thought I'd marry. I cried so hard my vision went blurry. Can we pretend none of this exists for a few minutes?

So instead I said, "I'm fine. Just a bad day."

He nodded. Didn't press.

He didn't need to.

The silence between us wasn't awkward. It was… understanding. Like he knew what it meant to carry broken pieces and smile anyway.

He dropped me off outside my building.

Before the door closed, I blurted,"Thank you Lee Jung-Kyo."

His smile was small. But it reached his eyes.

12:47 AM

I'm back in bed. My essay still isn't done. My heart feels like it's been carved out and filled with static. But somehow, I don't feel completely alone.

He was a stranger tonight. But he was kind. And when everything else shattered, his quiet presence held the pieces just enough that I didn't completely fall apart.

That has to mean something, right?

I'm still hurting, Diary. I'm still humiliated. But there's a flicker of something else in me now.

Not hope. Not yet.

But maybe the possibility of it.

And maybe… that's enough for tonight.

– Mi-Chan

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